


Cart Blanche

by herbailiwick



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Grocery Shopping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 02:20:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1493101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herbailiwick/pseuds/herbailiwick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>nupinoop296 prompted: "Sam having a nice interaction with someone at the grocery store :)"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cart Blanche

**Author's Note:**

  * For [catboysam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/catboysam/gifts).



"Jerky, and pork rinds," he reads off, glancing down at the items in the cart then back up at the list. Still, there's a faint smile on his face. Super Bowl's a once-in-a-year thing. Dean can snack as much as he wants.

He continues pushing the cart, eyeing some salad dressing on the way out of the aisle, but he's not really out of it and he doesn't use it all the time anyway. 

He's nearing the jerky when he spots a man in a motorized cart who can't reach a jar of peas.

"Here." He parks his cart at the end of the aisle. "Can I help you?"

The man looks up at him for a moment. "Sure."

Sam makes his way back to his cart with the sound of the man's surprised, "Thank you," still chiming in his ears.

He tries to decide whether Dean wants the regular queso or the white for a moment, squinting at both. Glancing around like someone might catch him at it, he reaches for both, hands seeming to dwarf them, turning them so he can read about their secrets.

Nutrition making the decision for him, he sticks the jar in the back of the cart. "Now, if only we had some friends," he points out to no one.

A faint sound reaches his ears. He stills, gets a feel for the surroundings, the temperature, the fluorescent lighting, the width between the shelves, the approximate size of the aisles. He leaves the cart again, crumpling the list up and shoving it in the opposite pocket to the one with his keys and wallet.

It's a little girl, and she's at the edge of the clothing section, tangled up in the dresses hanging on a rack. He glances back at the chip aisle, then down at the sparkly tennis shoes again. He sits down, legs crossed. "Hey. Are you lost?" he asks. 

He hears a few sniffs, sees a pair of dark eyes peek through the space two hands make. 

"My name's Sam. If we walk to the front of the store, they can call your...mom? Your dad? Whoever." 

He sits and waits. 

"I got lost in a store before," he shares. "When I wasn't big. It's a big place, but you're not gonna be left here. Whoever's with you will come running when we call them up at the front."

The metal of the hangers screeches as she parts the dresses, polyester twisted in her fists, and she steps out onto the carpet in plain view. 

"My name's Sam," he says again. He watches her, not wanting to stand up just yet. 

"Rosa," she whispers, and it's barely a sound at all.

"Rosa," he says with a slight smile. He starts to push himself up, warning, "I'm really tall, Rosa, okay?"

She frowns like she doesn't understand why he's saying that, but when he stands up, she's staring up, awed. 

"Stay with me," he says as he slowly makes his way to the front. He's slightly surprised when she reaches up for one of his large hands and graps his first two fingers. He curls them just so, giving her a nod to let her know it's okay. They make their way to the front.

Rosa's older brother must be in high school. He's embarrassed, but so relieved, and he takes Sam's hand more quickly and firmly than she had, shaking it over and over, thanking him.

"It's what anyone would have done," Sam assures, feeling a little embarrassed himself. With a glance around, he can see a couple women, including the cashier, are eyeing him, and he only came here for Superbowl snacks and light bulbs. 

Javier looks like he'll cry, so Sam adds, "From the looks of you, you were worried. Sign of a responsible big brother." Another level of relief unfolds in Javier and he nods.

"I was about to close this aisle, but why don't you go get your cart?" Evelyn, the woman behind the register, offers.

Sam does. He gently explains he's not done with his cart to the kid a little older than Javier who's already started to put back a few of the items. 

"Sorry," he blurts out.

"No, don't worry about it," Sam says, pulling the crumpled list out of his pocket and taking inventory. 

Sam starts unloading groceries, Dean practically nipping at his heels until he spreads his fingers out, taking a step back, letting Dean check out the snack food as he gathers up the light bulbs. 

"Dude, this is the wrong jerky," Dean points out.

"Sorry," Sam says, and he remembers his trip to the store. He loves shopping carts and aisles, the normalcy and calming bustle, like that time he worked at a grocery store for about a month as a bagger in Illinois.

Dean never understood. He gets antsy about the people trying to find bargains, gets uneasy about the normal lives and gets impatient about shoppers who take too long and about lines that stretch on forever.

"Did they have the white stuff?"

"Yeah," Sam admits. 

"And you didn't get it? You know I like that stuff."

"Sorry," Sam says again. But while he's sorry Dean doesn't have the one he would have picked, Sam wouldn't have changed a thing about his trip to the store.


End file.
